Page 26 of Claimed By the Lumberjack

“You smell like wood,” I murmur against his jaw.

“Occupational hazard.”

He wraps his arms around me, warm and strong, and presses a kiss to my temple.

“So,” I say, pulling back to look at him. “How long until my new office is ready? I have deadlines.”

He raises a brow. “Deadlines, huh?”

“Yes. Just because I write from the woods now doesn’t mean I don’t work. I’m a very serious woman with a very important column about sexy flannel-clad men and small-town gossip.”

Sawyer snorts. “You wrote one piece about me chopping wood, and it broke your website.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t love the attention.”

“I hated the attention.”

“But you loved the reward system I created for every ten thousand views.”

He tilts his head. “Is that what we’re calling it now? A reward system?”

“You’re not denying it worked.”

He growls softly and buries his face in my neck. “You are going to be the death of me.”

“I really hope not. We just ordered those new sheets.”

He laughs, pulling me tighter. I stay curled against him a moment longer, then sigh.

“We should get ready,” I say. “The Spring Fling starts in an hour, and Annie will call the National Guard if we’re late.”

Sawyer groans. “Remind me why we’re going to this again?”

“Because we live here and because we love these people. Sadie’s threatening to dye your beard pink if you don’t support her cupcake fundraiser.”

“Sadie’s terrifying.”

“Yes, but her cupcakes are divine.”

I kiss his cheek and climb out of his lap. He watches me go with a look that makes my knees wobble a little, even after a year of early mornings, late nights, and snowed-in Sundays tangled under quilts.

By the time we’re both showered and dressed—me in a blue sundress, Sawyer in jeans and a fresh henley that I may or may not rip off later—we’re halfway to the truck when he stops me.

“Wait.”

I turn, “What?”

He steps up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and rests his chin on my shoulder. “You happy?”

I lean into him without hesitation. “You know I am.”

“Even out here with the quiet? The slowness?”

“Especially here.”

He exhales against my skin, his voice soft and full of something unspoken. “I still can’t believe you stayed.”

I turn in his arms. “Sawyer Holt, there was never a world where I left you behind.”

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